In silence, they drove through the town and pulled over just a mile or two past it where the River King had left the trucks and pontoons sitting in the middle of the road. Not far beyond that, there was a sooty little fire going, spitting out a weak black smoke that was smudging the sky. A few feet away were three corpses.
Jillybean stared at them, completely stone-faced, except for the fact that she leaked tears steadily.
Grey saw the bodies and sighed wearily. “We’re not done yet,” he said. “We’ve got to move these pontoons. We got to hide them until we can get our people back.” Grey, Deanna, and, despite his injuries, Neil, each drove one of the great trucks. Sadie followed along with Jillybean; the silence in the pickup was unnerving. The little girl next to her had all the animation of a stick. Sadie kept glancing at her out of the corner of her eye and it was sometime before she picked out what was wrong.
“Hey, where’s your friend, Ipes?”
The little girl didn’t even blink. “Who?” she asked in a flat voice.
“What?” Sadie took her eyes from the road long enough to see if Jillybean was kidding: her expression showed that she wasn’t. “You know, your zebra? Wears a blue shirt? Makes a lot of smart aleck comments?”
“Oh him. He’s dead. He drownded.”
Sadie got goosebumps at the monotone way this was spoken. There was something definitely wrong with Jillybean. Sadie was afraid for her but couldn’t speak to anyone about it.
Captain Grey pushed them to their physical limits. They parked the pontoons near a cabin in the woods and then, without a pause for rest, he forced them to go back for the remaining bridges they had left on the side of the road. Thankfully, he chose to leave the ones in the hangar where they were, figuring that he had enough to bend the River King to his will.
He was correct in this. The River King had been so terrified of Jillybean’s destructive capabilities that he had retreated to his base to await the demands of the little girl. He was honestly surprised to hear his daughter’s voice the next morning.
“I’m glad you’re alive,” he said, stiffly.
“I bet,” Sadie said sarcastically. “I bet you’re falling all over yourself in happiness.”
“Come on, Sadie. You have to know that I love…”
“Save it for someone who cares. The only thing I want from you is a ‘yes’ to our demands. We want everyone back, including Eve and Melanie.” Sadie had no idea who this last person was, but she seemed to be important to both Grey and Deanna. “And we want two hundred gallons of diesel, twenty assault rifles, two thousand rounds of ammo and two thousand cans of food.”
“What?” the River King practically screamed. “That wasn’t part of the deal I made with Jillybean.”
“I am altering the deal. Pray I don’t alter it any further.” She thumbed off the “talk” button and glanced to Neil. “How was that? Too tough?”
“It was perfect,” he said, attempting a smile. It was ugly. Before passing out from blood loss and exhaustion, Captain Grey had put a hundred and fifty-eight stitches into Neil. He had been bitten twenty-seven times including one that had taken off the pinky on his left hand and another that had ripped off the top of his right ear. There was a line of stitches crossing one cheek and another along his hairline. He looked like a mini-Frankenstein.
“Now tell him where the drop off point is,” Grey said. She was about to speak into the radio when he stopped her. “And we need medicine; specifically painkillers and antibiotics.”
After briefly whining, the River King caved to the demands, and from there things moved quickly. The River King was on his last legs and needed the bridge to stay in power. He gathered the supplies, floated the prisoners across the river on something that resembled Noah’s ark—it was improperly waited in the keel and, once afloat with everyone on board, promptly fell over on its side. Thankfully it floated. The crew of the Titanic, as Michael Gates called the boat, found a way to paddle the thing, and after an hour, it ground up on the edge of the river. The fifty-seven prisoners were finally on their way to the rendezvous site.
And during all of this, Jillybean was moody, snappish, and quick to point out every character flaw in Neil and Sadie. She was perfectly complementary to Grey and acted reserved with Deanna. “Give her time,” Neil suggested. “She’s grieving over the loss of Ipes.”
To Sadie it seemed like more than grief. The little girl had glanced at the freed prisoners and had only one word to say: “Pathetic.” When the baby was brought forward and everyone cooed and smiled at her least movement, Jillybean had only curled her lip. “I’m the hero. You’re nothing,” Sadie heard her whisper to Eve.
There was no time to dwell on this, however. No one trusted the River King. Grey waited for the last minute to radio the coordinates of the hidden pontoons, and then they raced out of there in a convoy of five vehicles. The Captain led the way in the black pickup truck and behind them were the 5-tons.
Jillybean got the shivers when they pulled away. The shaking was so bad it bordered on convulsions. No one knew what to do and so they kept driving; eventually the shivering died away, but the girl remained wooden in her appearance.
As the hours passed, they dozed. All, that is, except Captain Grey. He drove them steadily southwest—it was the wrong way, but everyone had agreed to it in order to throw off any pursuit. The baby was the first to wake and with a drooly smile on her happy face, she crawled over Sadie to get to Jillybean.
The little girl came alive in an instant, shoving the baby and yelling, “Get that thing off of me!”
“Calm down, it’s okay,” Sadie said, trying to soothe her. “It’s just Eve.”
Jillybean snarled, “No it’s not. I am. I am Eve, not her.”
Sadie’s stomach crawled, seeing the hate in little Jillybean.
“How about I take Ev…I mean the baby up here with me,” Deanna said from the front seat. The truck was quiet after that. Instead of talking, everyone shot each other concerned looks.
Jillybean remained on edge until they reached the outskirts of Little Rock where they made camp in a factory that had once made coat hangers. Safe and protected, the group built fires to cook over. The flames entranced Jillybean. She cried steadily while staring into them.
After a while, Neil decided to try to talk to her. “Do you feel like sharing what happened?”
She nodded, gently. “Ipe…I mean my best friend is gone. He got drownded.”
Softly, Neil touched her on the shoulder and said, “Oh Jillybean, I’m so sorry to hear that.”
A fearful look crossed her face. “You shouldn’t call me that anymore it makes her mad. You should call us Eve.”
“Ok Eve, maybe you should go to sleep now. You need your rest.”
When Neil told the others what had happened, Captain Grey said, “It’s definitely PTSD. If there’s a cure, it’s keeping her out of any action. She needs to stabilize her life.”
“Let’s hope we’re done with any more action,” Deanna said. It was wishful thinking on her part. They were a thousand miles from the base in the Colorado mountains and there was danger in one form or another in every one of those miles.
The next morning, they turned northwest and drove slowly along with only bathroom breaks interrupting their pace. By sundown, they were north of Battlesville, just across the state line into Kansas. The land was filled with gentle hills and sprawling farms. The renegades found an oversized barn on a lonely homestead to bed down in for the night.
They woke to the sound of the undead. There was a great wailing and moaning coming from all around them. Neil and Grey were the first up. “Check the back,” Grey said. “I’ll check the front.”
Sadie went with Neil and when she saw the horde she felt like crying, or punching a wall in anger. “Not again,” she said. She should’ve known better. She should’ve known that every mile from here to Colorado would be fought over. She should’ve known her days of blood and battle weren’t over yet.
“
It’s not so bad.” Neil pointed outward. “Look how far away they are.” It was true, the zombies were half a mile away, stretching out like a long, gray wall. “We can probably zip out the front if we hurry.”
That plan was dashed when they ran to tell Grey that there were zombies to the east of them and he said: “They’re to the west, as well, and from what I could see, north and south, also.”
They were everywhere, all around them in countless numbers. It was as though the barn sat in the eye of a storm.
“What on earth is going on?” Deanna asked.
“Maybe it’s some sort of migratory behavior,” Neil conjectured.
Jillybean looked at him in an ugly manner. “Are you blind or stupid?”
This stunned everyone into silence except for Jillybean herself. “Don’t be mean. Mister Neil is nice,” she said.
“He’s an idiot,” Jillybean replied. “Look at that circle. Look at the spacing all around us. You don’t need binoculars to see that’s not natural in any way. But with binoculars, there’s no question.”
While the adults stood around gaping, Jillybean put a pair of binoculars to her eyes, and then gasped. “Wow,” she whispered.
“What?” Sadie asked, reaching for the glasses. When she looked through them, she saw the zombies standing in a long, circular line that curved out of sight around the edge of the barn; they stood twenty deep.
“That’s strange, they’re just standing there…” Her words caught in her throat as something else, something magnificent entered her field of vision.
It was either a man or an angel. He was tall and fair, with yellow hair that streamed behind him. He rode upon a midnight black stallion of great size that seemed faster than the wind. In his right hand he held a spear tipped with silver and upon his muscular body he was armored in shining metal.
None of this was what had stopped Sadie’s mouth. The armor and the spear could be explained. What caused her to choke on her words was the fact that the man had wings. Two beautiful white wings arched from his back. They flowed and snapped in the wind with a sound like a boat’s sail in a tempest.
As Sadie gaped, he seemed to grow in the binoculars as he turned his stallion toward the barn and charged. Closer, she could see that it was no angel. It was a man, who was a sight to behold, as he came galloping up to the stunned renegades most of whom retreated into the barn.
“Cowering won’t save you,” he said in a clear voice. “These are the lands of the Azael! You may either surrender to me or die by their hands.” The man pointed out with his long spear back toward the zombies which were being herded closer by other winged horsemen.
The group of renegades, sixty-three in number, was wretched looking; barely the size of a platoon, made up of the meek and misused. They had two thousand rounds of ammo, which had seemed like a lot, however, there were easily twice that many zombies.
In fear, the renegades looked to Neil. “I don’t think we have a choice,” he said to them. “We fight.”
The End
Author’s note:
I certainly hope you have been enjoying The Undead World series as much as I have enjoyed writing it. If so could you please leave a review for it on Amazon and perhaps a mention on your face book page. Reviews are the single best way to help an independent author.
I have a second zombie-apocalypse series: The Apocalypse Crusade. It is a slow motion decent into hell as seen from the eyes of a number of great, new characters: Dr. Lee, beautiful and brainy, she is the lead scientist hoping to cure cancer. Ryan Deckard, chief of security: he has his hands full, first with sabotage and then with a whole mess of zombies. Lieutenant Eng: Chinese scientist/spy who is willing to kill an entire country to get his name on the cure for cancer. Chuck Singleton: lets love ruin his chance at getting the miracle cure for cancer and misses out on becoming the next man-eating creature. LT Pemberton of the NY State Troopers: sacrifices his men in a last ditch effort to contain the creatures.
I bet you’re thinking that it sounds like a whole lot of fun and you’d be right!
But if you’ve read it already(and loved it, of course) may I suggest The Trilogy of The Void
The first book in the series, The Horror of the Shade was inspired by one of the paranormal events that I’ve been connected with. Quite simply, it was a two second ghost sighting, witnessed by me and two of my brothers. So how is that extrapolated into a trilogy? Step one: Remove me and my two brothers. Step two: Change the ghost to a demon, add a hot, but diabolical witch. Throw in a hunky seventeen-year old and his hell-powered schizophrenic sister and you’re in business. Oh, I forgot to mention there will also be: Gypsies, exorcisms, blood, bullets, a nice sprinkling of sex, sin, murder, and a couple of trips into the wonderful vacation spot known as Hell...and did I mention sex? Right, check that off the list. Step three: Churn these all up into non-stop action, until you realize what you have is nothing more than a family in dire peril. What is this story about? What every story is about: people. People in love, people in danger, people fighting for their very souls.
What follows is chapter 1:
Chapter 1
The Row-Adrina
June 15, 1959
1
When Adrina woke that morning with sweat chilling her pillow and her heart making sporadic, spastic thumps in her chest, she knew it would be bad. Even before she sat up the anxiety was on her. It seemed almost as if a cloud of fear hung in the air making it difficult for her to find her breath.
She puttered around the kitchen of her small apartment, waiting for it to happen. There was nothing else for her to do but wait. What would happen, would happen. There was no avoiding it. And she wouldn’t even try. If she did, it would only make things worse.
Her growing anxiety made her feel she had to pee frequently, and she found herself sitting on the toilet for half the morning, staring blankly at the tile pattern of the floor. It was all very neat and straight.
Adrina called in sick to work. She was on the cleaning staff for a swanky New York hotel and knew she’d be useless that day. It was better if she were alone, fewer people would get hurt.
“You know that won’t matter a bit!” she scolded herself. No, it wouldn’t matter, but she knew this wasn’t about the hotel, or any of the service staff she worked with. This was far more personal.
With her nails long bitten down to nubs, she began to pace. To the window, to the door, to the bathroom. With each trip to the window, she would peek out hesitantly, afraid of what she might see. Always the same dull view.
On one of her many trips to the bathroom, she gazed for some time at the tired, scared face in the mirror. She had been pretty once, but that had been many years before, and at 68, her black hair had long been replaced by grey. Now that was being replaced too, and a smattering of white hairs stood out from the rest. Looking at them, a sigh that was almost a death rattle escaped her—she didn’t notice.
With each trip to the door, she walked almost tiptoe across the carpet, listening for any sound in the hall. She thought about scooting a chair over to the door, so she could look out through the peephole, but she knew she would look ridiculous. In her youth she stood five feet tall, but she had been shrinking steadily for twenty years and the peephole was all but useless to her now.
The day dragged on, and it was not until after dinner that it finally came. There was a loud knock on the door and Adrina clutched her hands to her scrawny chest; she wasn’t expecting anyone. Except that she was. In her heart, she knew that hiding in her apartment wouldn’t stop what had to happen. She was about to open the door and there’d be someone standing there and she would know. She would know something that she couldn’t possibly know.
Today it would be about death, there was no question. Maybe one terrible death, maybe more, perhaps a lot more. It had always been this way when she was this keyed up. Someone was going to die.
“Let it be me, let it be me,” she repeated to herself as she walked down the little hall. Adrina thought
she was ready for death however, in this she was terribly wrong. She paused at the door, afraid of what was to come, but the sound of another, more insistent knock, made her face her fears and turn the knob.
“Hello, Mother.” Adrina’s son Tomas stood in the doorway. He looked terrible; never in her life had she seen someone with eyes so bloodshot. He had great dark circles under them that were swollen and puffy. Clearly he had not slept in a long time, and the dark circles made his sallow skin appear sickly yellow. His normally neat black hair stood out uncombed and his face was unshaven...
Facing away from Adrina, Tomas knelt on the hardwood floor of a barren room. It was a room she had never seen before. The wood flooring was glossy and looked polished, and was spotless, without a trace of dirt or dust. Adrina stood behind her kneeling son, holding a heavy, heavy gun in her right hand. It felt like she must have just pulled it out of a freezer; it was almost painfully cold. Her vision focused on the back of Tomas’ head; his hair was just beginning to show a few grey hairs.
Emotionless she nudged the barrel up against his head and pulled the trigger. It was loud and a spike of pain shot through both ears, she didn’t care—she seemed beyond caring. The bullet blasted out of her son’s face, spraying the room with blood and gore. About the edges, her vision clouded and tunneled, so that only when he toppled over onto a girl, did Adrina realize the walls were a harsh stark white.
Tomas’ blood stood out brightly against the white. It trickled down...down, slowly down. Adrina’s eyes followed the blood until it slid to the flooring where it gathered with more blood in a pool. Tomas sprawled face down over the body of a girl who was pale as death. His blood pooled around her and steam rose from it.
...”Hello, Tomas,” her voice was a hollow whisper. The nervousness was gone and in its place was only stunned disbelief.
The Undead World (Book 5): The Apocalypse Renegades Page 37